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like most things in my life. It started out with an absolute wreck. This boat of a float, someone called a town car rear ended me into next week. I was trying to exit. I was literally trying to get out of the way, but the exit was blocked off and he wanted to exit with me and he found himself in me. Perfect timing, just the kind of luck I have. The guy got out and immediately asked if we. My buddy and I we're okay. I said yes, despite my neck already sending subtle death threats. He said he was fine too. Uh, y'all can all laugh now. I know y'all were really concerned for my wellbeing. He said his brakes locked up, whatever that meant. He immediately took the blame. Bless his heart. I got back in the car and was debriefing am I never to life friend For me, I did slow down rather quickly, which probably caused his brakes to lock up. I did not particularly like that comment. Also, I did not give the insurance company the number of this so-called friend. Honesty is important, but so is self-preservation. I'm not sponsored. So I won't tell you what insurance carrier he had, but they were great. They gave me a large check and paid for my rental car while my car got evaluated by some sketch mechanic that thank got just as much money to declare the car totaled as he did. If he repaired it. My car was declared totaled by this man. And yes, he had a mullet. It's relevant. I still needed a car given our society's demand on cars to create economic value, and honestly, what am I if I'm not creating economic value? Answer, I'm unemployed or worse, a pedestrian. I was younger at the time, so I brought my mom along. That's a lie. I didn't bring my mom along because I was younger. I brought my mom along because she's an ace negotiator. My wild card, my secret weapon. I will always try to bring my mom along to anything. Her country of origin isn't completely known. We believe she has a mix of Romanian and God's chosen people in her because she can negotiate like no other. I lived at the time in a small little town and I had to travel to the dry well in the middle of a desert that's called Houston, Texas. Needless to say, my ACE recruiter started off in a bad mood she did not wanna be wasting her day in Houston, Texas. We pull up in the excited new to America Salesman was practically vibrating with eagerness to greet us. The car was already parked up front. Shiny, pristine. It looked basically brand new. To be clear, I couldn't get a brand new car, but it looked brand new. My mom, of course, was less impressed to meet him and the car I. We walked around the car and there are quite a few items that caught my mom's distaste. The rugs are carpet with no rubber cover. Strike one. There's a scratch on the back of the car. Strike two, and there's a very, very ugly Baylor bear bum on the back of the car. Nearly strike three, but the excited salesman swooped in like a Disney hero and yanked it off. He eagerly asked if we wanted to test drive it. Nope. Not interested in a test drive at all. My mom responded, how about you bring us the best price you can and we'll start there. I'll wait here. Matter of fact, do y'all happen to have a Diet Coke? I could use a little pick me up. This ride here was ridiculous. And to add to that, I would like for us to leave here with only one car, so it better be a good deal. I look forward to my son driving me back home. The car salesman smiled. I think it's the only thing he could do to try to save the deal. Scurried off to talk to the Wizard of Oz behind the finance desk, whoever that is. The dealership was shady, which meant my mom did not feel bad about getting shadier. She already had financing but acted, acted like we were willing to finance with them. They try to drag it out forever. So she created a sense of urgency by informing them of a medical emergency we had to get back to very quickly. She's kind of scary when she combines urgency with, I will not take no for an answer for. We actually eventually took no for an answer and left the dealership. They stopped budging, which really annoyed her. We marched across town to another Volkswagen and began the process again. She disliked this salesman even more and told my dad to shut it down. We're going home. Mind you, I'm freaking out'cause I actually need a car. I need to add economic value next week. We get a call from the first dealership to my leaf. They decided to haggle a little, refusing to not win through complete and utter decimation of the opponent. My mom demanded rubber floor mats as the final prize. They relented. Victory was hers. She took a nap in the backseat of the car while I went to finish the paperwork. My mom all foot, all five foot three of her, the nicest person you'll ever meet was asleep. A job well done. Avoid a negotiation with her at all costs. A 2019 certified pre-owned Volkswagen Tiguan, and beautiful British racing. Green was my new ride or die. She wasn't my dream car by any stretch of the imagination, but she drove. Oh, how she drove every mom and a five mile radius was probably jealous. No. They were jealous. She had a third row. Someone called it the biggest small size crossover in its class. I even had a girl tell me it was her dream car. I told her to dream higher. She left me. Soon after. Immediately, I backed it into a trash can on my frat house and got a massive dent. Why? Because apparently I can't own anything without a little flare of my own. This would've cost the dealership another thousand off the price if my mom had foreseen it coming then while parked, someone hit the door, leaving a massive slash in it. My fraternity brother and a fit of genius stuck a pin down the side of the door. I think that pen's still there. That has become a permanent resident. It was a pinned to a nearby church. I like to keep God as close to me as possible. The trunk or what was previously known as a trunk, has become a mobile pit stop. I have oil, ent, whopper fluid back there. Tools, battery jumper, air compressor, full roadside emergency kit. Worst case scenario, air mattress. No circumstance doesn't have an answer with this. Car insurance. Check, regular maintenance check. Reliability constant. She endures despite my poor parking that slashes the dents, that stupid pin, she refuses to die. I've put 130,000 miles on her 130,000 and she still drives. It's honestly humbling and infuriating at the same time. My silence, steadfast, annoying, companion and chaotic world. She embodies me at this point, practical, slightly reckless, very rough around the edges, and somehow still aesthetically decent. I feel we should all shoot for just aesthetically decent. There's moments of joy. The first time I floored it down on a back road and the engine laughed at me at a mere 65 miles per hour, the time the battery died on me in downtown Austin, my other frat bro had to come push it a block in rush hour traffic to the course of car horns. The time I slept in the trunk of the car at my own childhood home.'cause I tested positive for COVID in the parking lot of CVS before I got there, and my lovely mother wouldn't let me in. There's a strange affection that grows when your car is lived through chaos with you. Each dent, scratch, mysterious pen is a badge of honor, a testament to survival, economic value creation, and my mother's negotiation prowess. I wanna get rid of her. I, I gotta be honest, I do. There are so many cars that would be newer, faster, shinier, more me, but I can't bring myself to do it. She's survived worse than I have. She's carried more groceries than I can count. She's carried friends and friends that are now enemies and been a stage for my ever evolving vocal talents. Bless the ears on that car. No, this Tiguan is not just a car. She's a chronicle of a life in motion. The dents, they're my stories. The slashes, they're the tragedies, the pen, bless that pen, represents resilience in the face of arbitrary chaos. And honestly, every time I pull in that driveway, I feel a mix of frustration and all. Frustration for the continued battle scars and awe, because against all odds, she still drives. I literally cannot kill this car. It is immortal or cursed, probably possessed. And for now that's enough. So yeah, I wanna get rid of it really badly, but I can't. I will continue to abuse it. I will continue to abuse it, love it, and rely on it to create economic value. My mom's cunning, my friend's pen and that dent are gonna keep riding with me mile after mile until this thing just won't stop. And that's my T one. My battle scarred British racing green, nearly indestructible, likely immortal teak one. I'm starting a substack. It's gonna be called the Rambler Media Club. I'm gonna be posting some music, some movies, some TV shows, some books, some essays and other things that inspire me throughout the week. Um, I'm trying to interact a little more and would love for your interaction there and emailing me and giving me your thoughts. So, uh, look for the show notes or email me atAustin@ramblerlive.com. Thanks.